


which nobody can deny

by justkatherinetheokay



Series: wonders great and small [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, Birthday Party, Established Relationship, M/M, Surprises, no seriously I don't drink so I had to like. research alcoholic beverages. to write this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 20:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6768616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkatherinetheokay/pseuds/justkatherinetheokay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Alexander's 22nd birthday.<br/>He doesn't particularly want to celebrate.<br/>Angelica does.<br/>Aaron is indifferent.<br/>John is still in South Carolina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	which nobody can deny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBreakfastGenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBreakfastGenie/gifts).



> It's Sarah's 20th birthday today (at least... it still is in MY timezone) and unfortunately I couldn't fly to the other side of the continent to celebrate with her since it's finals and also I have no money. I do, however, have a word processor and a ship, so, here's this.
> 
> Loose follow-up to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5262128/chapters/12142109). This won't be it for this verse, though, believe me ;)

  


“Come _on,”_ Angelica said again, shuffling her high-heeled feet back and forth, antsy. “You _know_ it’s a losing battle, Alex. We’re taking you out whether you like it or not.” 

“Why?” said Alexander, who had yet to move from the couch where he had plopped back down, laptop back on his knees, after going through the motions of letting them in. He had already moved willingly once tonight, opening the front door only to find Angelica, and for some reason Aaron, standing outside his apartment, and he didn’t plan on getting up again. They could let themselves back out. 

“Because it’s your birthday!” Angelica tried, with a fake grin that looked even more out-of-place juxtaposed with Aaron’s rather bored expression, which didn’t change. 

“You know I don’t make a big deal about my birthday,” said Alexander. “Haven’t before, not starting now. So _why?”_

“…Because you’re a sad sack,” Angelica said more honestly, “who hasn’t gone out since New Years.” 

“It’s only been—” Alexander started to protest, but Angelica raised her eyebrows. 

“A week?” 

“…Yeah…” Over a week, technically. Ten days. Alexander sighed. “I’m fine. Really.” He turned back to his current work-in-progress article and started typing again. Maybe that would make them go away. 

No such luck. 

“Alexander,” said Angelica. “It’s your twenty-second birthday, and you haven’t left your apartment in a _week.”_

“Not true,” Alexander informed her without looking up from selecting a sentence to delete and rephrase. “I went grocery shopping on Saturday.” 

“But you haven’t been out in any _fun_ way,” Angelica insisted. Alexander looked up at Aaron, who stood a few steps behind her, hoping he might find some sympathy there; no such luck. Aaron just shrugged, glancing at Angelica with a look that, though unreadable as ever, Alexander was pretty sure was meant to suggest he agreed with her. He sighed. 

“I’m _fine,”_ he said again. 

“Try _pathetic,”_ Angelica corrected him. Alexander glared. 

“You both realize, right, that pretty much the only person I _do_ want to see or go out with at this point is on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line until Wednesday?” 

“Is that so,” said Angelica, examining her dark pink fingernails. Alexander glared harder. 

“I’m just saying. You’re wasting your time.” 

“Wow,” said Aaron, speaking for the first time since he’d entered the apartment, “who knew not getting laid for two weeks could make you even more of an asshole than usual?” Alexander flipped him off. 

“... And in John’s absence,” said Angelica, a touch more delicately, “we feel it falls to us to make sure you don’t turn into a hermit.” 

“I’m _not,”_ said Alexander. He knew it came out petulant. He didn’t care. 

“People who aren’t hermits go outside,” said Angelica, with an air of victory. “Seriously, Alex, all you have to do is put on a sweater or something and come to Fraunces with us. That’s all we ask.” 

Alexander chewed his lip for a moment, weighing his options. Pros of acquiescing, Angelica would let up, and not be standing in his living room yelling at him anymore; cons, he would have to actually do things, and things were really not something he wanted to do right now. Admittedly, the only thing he _wanted_ to do right now was still in South Carolina. 

“She’s offering to buy you a drink, Hamilton,” Aaron said dryly. “From where you’re standing, it’s free alcohol. Since when have you ever said no to that?” 

Fair point. He _would_ be an idiot to turn down his rich friends offering to buy him alcohol. 

“Okay, fine,” Alexander acquiesced, finally, setting the laptop aside such that it landed lopsided on the cushion at the other end of the couch. Angelica actually pumped her fist in the air. Then she paused. 

“Wait—have you eaten today?” 

“I ate dinner,” said Alexander, privately thanking his lucky stars he’d ordered a large enough pizza last night to have leftovers today. Angelica’s was actually a very reasonable concern; there had definitely been days during this break where he had just forgotten to eat, period, and an empty stomach was no good to drink on. 

“Good! Then let’s go.” 

“Just let me change my shirt.” He stood, stepped between them, and stalked off into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him so he could strip off the faded Columbia t-shirt he’d been wearing since yesterday in relative privacy before exchanging it for a plain black shirt and a sweater that had definitely been John’s until it shrank exactly one size (completely by accident, of course) in the dryer. 

“Do you think Alex will mind that you’re reading that?” Aaron said from the other room, it sounded like purposefully very loudly. Alexander rolled his eyes. 

“If he cared about other people reading it he wouldn’t have left sitting out,” Angelica replied. 

“You know me so well!” Alexander called, to a peal of laughter from the living room. He paused, considering, then decided to go for different pants, too. Might as well. 

“What’s taking so long?” Aaron’s voice floated in again, muffled by the door. Alexander shimmied into a nicer pair of jeans than the ones he’d had on, transferred his keys and wallet to the pockets, glanced at his clothes where he’d abandoned them haphazard on the floor, and decided he didn’t mind if they stayed there a few hours longer. John might, but John wasn’t here yet. 

Back in the living room he found Angelica curled up on the couch, platform wedges kicked off on the carpet, balancing his laptop on one knee as she perused what he presumed was his draft. Aaron was still standing awkwardly to one side, feigning casual ease in such a way as to make his discomfort obvious. 

“Took you long enough,” he said again. 

“I just want to look good for you,” Alexander shot back with as much simpering snark as he could muster. Aaron rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” he added more genuinely, directed at Angelica. 

“It’s good!” she said. “Not that everything you write _isn’t._ This is just a little less… verbose, than usual. It’s a quicker read.” 

“That’s what I was told to go for.” 

“Well, it turns out you’re up to the task.” She set the computer aside again and stood, slipping back into her heels. “Let’s go!” 

“Okay.” Alexander paused long enough to roll the spare hair tie off his wrist and tug his hair back into a ponytail. Aaron sighed heavily, still impatient. Alexander rolled his eyes. _“Now_ let’s go.” 

“Yeah!” Angelica exclaimed, seizing Alexander’s arm to half-drag him out the door and down to the street. “Come on, Alex, get with it,” she said once they were outside, speaking louder to be heard over the urban traffic. “We’re young, hot—well, you and I are—” 

“Fuck you,” said Aaron, sounding more apathetic than offended. 

“—and in the greatest city in the world. Let’s have some _fun.”_ Alexander nodded, removing his arm from her grip while she was distracted by hailing a taxi. 

“Sure,” he said. “Triple-A, hitting the town. Should be a blast.” 

“Dear God,” said Aaron, “please never call us that again.” Alexander genuinely grinned (perhaps a little evilly) for the first time in two weeks. Angelica snickered. 

“Bad move, Burr,” she said, as Alexander retorted, 

“Oh, Aaron, that’s the _only_ thing I’m ever going to call us from now on.” That got a long-suffering sigh. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be so bad, after all. 

Fraunces was never _empty,_ per se, especially between the hours of five and ten PM, but this still seemed startlingly crowded for a Monday night. Alexander paused just in the door, surveying the room. A cursory sweep didn’t reveal anyone he knew, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. 

“Please tell me there’s not some kind of surprise party thing waiting for me,” he said. “I love you guys, but I’m really not up for it tonight.” 

“Nah, don’t worry,” Angelica reassured him. “We knew it was going to be hard enough getting you to leave your computer, we weren’t going to plan something that complicated.” 

“Especially for someone as paranoid as you are,” Aaron added. Alexander looked back and forth between the two of them, suspicious. Aaron’s face revealed nothing, not that he’d expected it to, but something about the way Angelica raised her eyebrows— 

“Yeah, now I’m pretty much positive you’re plotting something,” he told her, pointing in her face, “whether you’ve actually involved him—” he pointed at Aaron—“or not.” 

“Believe whatever you want,” said Angelica resignedly, which cinched it for Alexander. 

Oh well. He was here; not much he could do about it now but steel himself for the worst. At least he could try to ensure he had enough alcohol in him to deal with whatever was coming by the time it arrived. 

“Anyway!” Angelica slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him over toward the bar. “Let’s get this birthday boy a drink.” 

“It’s like you can read my mind,” said Alexander, and, for that matter, let her order for him. 

A Manhattan for each of them and a scotch on the rocks for Aaron later, Alexander felt a little better able to handle whatever wild scheme his friends had concocted for him. 

“Wouldn’t champagne be more, you know, celebratory?” Aaron pointed out, downing the last of his drink, ice cubes clattering in the glass as he set it back down. 

“Well, sure, traditionally,” said Angelica. “New Years was only ten days ago, though. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m still champagne’d out.” Alexander nodded his agreement. Aaron shrugged. Angelica sat back on her barstool, crossing one elegant leg over the other, and looked around. “Do you think men would be back to falling over themselves to buy me drinks if I wasn’t wearing the ring?” 

“Hell, even if you’d just stop angling it to catch the light at every opportunity,” said Aaron dryly. Angelica flipped him the bird—with her left hand, as if to mockingly prove his point. Alexander snickered. 

Angelica’s John had proposed on New Year’s Eve, hence the enormous diamond now adorning her finger. As it happened, Herc and his long-time girlfriend Beth had gotten engaged around the same time. Apparently people getting engaged on New Years was a _thing._ Alexander was delighted for all of them, of course, except that it made him miss _his_ John all the more— 

—Not that they were anywhere near marriage (god, no). Their lives were _way_ too messy at the moment, with grad school acceptances still up in the air, and the rental contract on the apartment expiring in six months, and of course there was the whole John’s-not-out-to-his-family issue. And, of course, the whole huge lifetime commitment, not necessarily a decision to be made at twenty-two, thing—but Alexander kept having to remind himself that that part _should_ be a factor at all, which made it feel like it really wasn’t anymore, which was, in a way, scary as all hell, so he didn’t dwell on it. No— 

—what _really_ needled him was that, in a little over three years together, covering now four New Year’s Eves, they had never gotten to kiss at midnight on January first. Or at all on January eleventh, which was just as disheartening, not that Alexander _cared_ about his birthday—but he kind of thought he might if John was ever there for it. 

But John was always in South Carolina. 

Angelica and Aaron were still bickering lightheartedly beside him. Alexander still didn’t trust it—he _knew_ Angelica had to have something more complex than this up her sleeve—but for the moment no surprise party seemed imminent, so, with the help of the Manhattan he’d downed, he felt like he could relax a little. And go back to moping, while he was missing John and his friends weren’t looking. 

At least, last he knew, John was doing okay. He’d been weirdly uncommunicative today, which was a little worrying, but Alexander had managed to tamp the anxiety down pretty well. 

After all, as of this morning, when he woke up to a very sweet happy-birthday text, nothing had gone terribly awry down there the way it all had back at Thanksgiving. The whole visit had been, if not exactly _pleasant_ by any conventional definition, at least relatively so: no screaming or shouting; no overblown punishments for minor or imagined infractions; maybe one panic attack in two weeks, and Alexander had been able to pick up the phone and talk him through it. 

Mostly, as far as he could tell from the outside and five states away, the adults were icily polite, the teenagers distracted by Christmas presents, and Henry Senior pacified a little by the holiday spirit or some shit. Apparently John had even managed to bring his father around to the idea of his going to law school somewhere other than Duke, which could only be a good thing: it meant they had that to fall back on, if none of the graduate options John would prefer came through with sufficiently close-to-livable stipends. 

So, John was doing okay. That was a comfort. Even more comforting, it was only two more days before he’d be back. Two days, Alexander thought unhappily, that were sure to feel endless. 

The bartender—not any of the guys he knew tonight, unfortunately—set a martini in front of him, and Alexander looked up. 

“Uh,” he said. “I didn’t order that…?” 

“I know,” said the bartender with a wink. “Happy birthday from the leggy brunette at the end of the bar.” Alexander regarded the martini doubtfully, biting his lip. 

“Thanks,” he said, “I appreciate the thought, but maybe let the leggy brunette know I’m taken?” 

“Oh, the leggy brunette’s aware,” said the only voice on earth Alexander had wanted to hear in weeks from what sounded like about a foot behind him. In his haste to spin around, hardly daring to believe his ears, he overbalanced and found himself falling—off the barstool and right into John’s arms. Before he could quite get his bearings it stopped mattering anyway, because John lifted him almost off his feet entirely as he kissed him about as desperately as he ever did when it had been literally weeks. 

“Holy fuck,” said Alexander when the kiss broke. 

“Happy birthday,” John managed to get out before Alexander sank his fingers into his hair and pulled him down to kiss him again. Someone wolf-whistled from suspiciously close to where Angelica had been sitting. Probably this qualified as making a scene. Alexander never cared about that unless John did, and right now, for once, John didn’t seem to, so he decided he didn’t care at all. 

Eventually they had to breathe, but Alexander still clung to him, pressing his face into John’s neck. Out of nowhere, he felt weirdly like he was fighting back tears; _something_ was prickling at the backs of his eyes. John, who, he thought, could probably tell, just held him tight and peppered light kisses along his jaw. Alexander shivered slightly before, eyes clear, he pulled back to look his boyfriend over properly. 

He looked tired—predictably enough; in Alexander’s experience, John being with his family for two hours showed, let alone two weeks—but good. He always looked good. Whatever. 

“How did you get here?” Alexander asked, at the same time John said, 

“That’s my sweater.” 

“Well, maybe it _used_ to be,” Alexander replied instantly. 

“Intergalactic starship, how the fuck do you think,” said John, as they talked over each other again. In his peripheral vision Alexander was pretty sure he could see Angelica recording the whole thing on her phone, for posterity or something. Whatever. 

“Seriously,” he said, “I thought you weren’t getting back until Wednesday.” 

“Good,” said John, looking terribly pleased with himself. “That’s what you were supposed to think. And hey, good on everyone else, not spilling the beans.” 

“Wait—” With some effort Alexander forced himself to look away from John’s face and turn his gaze first on Angelica, then Aaron, both of whom were grinning broadly. Then back to John again, because he didn’t think he wanted to look at anything else but John, possibly ever. “You were always flying back today?” 

“Yep.” 

“What the—how long have you assholes been planning this?” 

“Since finals.” John grinned. “Did it work? Are you adequately surprised?” 

“Am I _adequately_ —oh my god.” Alexander flung his arms around his neck again. “You fucker,” he whispered into John’s ear. “I love you so much.” 

“Missed you,” was all John said, hands tightening a little at Alexander’s waist. They stood there for a moment, not particularly inclined to move. Finally John let go. “Are you going to drink the martini?” he asked, blinking a little too rapidly. 

“Oh, yeah, that. Thanks, babe.” Alexander kissed his cheek and turned back to pick up the glass. “Do you want anything?” 

“Mm.” John frowned, considering. “How much have you had?” 

“Before this? Only one drink so far. Maybe one and a half or something, technically—I don’t know _exactly_ how much is in a Manhattan here.” Alexander shrugged. “I’m barely feeling it yet—well—okay, I might be a little tipsy, but it’ll fade.” After a junior year spent increasing his tolerance—a side effect of becoming friends with the Marquis de Lafayette, whose alcohol of choice was either extremely expensive wine or too many shots of fireball (with very little in-between)—it took a lot more to get him drunk than it used to. 

“Hmm.” John cocked his head to one side. “The martini should be fine, then. I’m gonna stick to one beer, I think.” 

“…Why…?” Alexander took a sip. John’s smile turned devilish. 

“Kind of need us both to be, you know, in a place to make decisions,” he said pointedly. 

“What— _oh!”_ Alexander grinned as it clicked, and leaned in close, lowering his voice to ask, “does that mean—not only do I get my boyfriend home two days early, but I also get birthday sex for the first time in my life?” John shrugged, nonchalant, but he also visibly licked his lips as his gaze darted down to Alexander’s, then lower. 

“I mean, you’re twenty-two today,” he said. “It’s past time.” 

“Yeah, okay,” said Alexander, “very convincing presentation, Mr. Laurens, you’ve got me on board.” 

“Good.” John leaned across him to ask the bartender for a beer. Once he had it in hand, he took Alexander’s and pulled him toward a booth. Angelica and Aaron followed, both shaking their heads at them—Angelica fondly, Aaron with the look of faint bemused exasperation he usually got in the vicinity of Alex-and-John-as-couple. 

“Hey,” said Alexander, settling into the booth, making sure to press himself up against John as close as possible. “Sorry. Kind of forgot you guys existed.” 

“Understandable,” said Angelica. “You really didn’t guess at all?” 

“Not even slightly.” 

“Nice!” She held out a hand to Aaron for a high five, which he returned with so little enthusiasm it made Alexander laugh. Not that it would be hard to make him laugh tonight, he thought: were he standing, he’d have been walking on air. 

“You’re good friends,” he told them. “I have to say, Ange, I’m impressed. I expect this kind of secret-keeping from _Aaron,_ but—” 

“Hey!” said Angelica. “I’ll have you know I am _great_ at keeping secrets.” 

“I mean, next to you, babe, anyone looks CIA-level,” said John, resting his chin on Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander scoffed, but didn’t move away when his boyfriend’s hands snaked around his waist—just the opposite, leaning into the embrace. He had _missed_ him. 

“Really,” he said, turning far enough to look at him sidelong. “How’d you get here? Like, specifically _here?”_ The plan as Alexander had known it was for him to take John’s car to pick him up from the airport again, but in that (fictional, apparently) version all of that would have been happening Wednesday. At the moment the car was still parked in the student lot that managed to be the shortest walk from their building. 

“Herc and Beth came to get me,” said John. “My stuff’ll be waiting for us when we go home.” 

“Nice.” Alexander twisted in his seat to face him. “So how _are_ you?” 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m glad to be back. How are you?” Alexander waved a hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

“He hadn’t left the apartment in a week,” Angelica put in. 

“Not true!” said Alexander. “I told you, I got groceries.” 

“Yeah, and what were those groceries?” Aaron asked pointedly. Alexander made a face. 

“…Chips and salsa,” he admitted. “And ice cream.” John laughed. 

“So, you’ve been getting by just fine.” 

“I’m as pathetic as expected,” Alexander agreed. “But I want to hear about you. How was your flight? How was South Carolina? Are you doing okay?” 

“You know how South Carolina was,” said John, “you just spent two weeks demanding real-time updates.” 

“Yeah, but I want the end report.” What he got was a shrug and a facial expression Alexander didn’t quite know what to make of. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s South Carolina,” said John in his slowest, most dramatic drawl. “Nothing _really_ terrible happened, so I’m gonna need some time to look back and take stock of all the little things before I can give you some kind of definitive answer.” 

“Fair enough.” Alexander took his hand and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles reassuringly. John smiled at him. 

“Missed being around you.” 

“Well, sure,” said Alexander. “Who wouldn’t?” John kicked him. 

“Don’t ruin it.” 

“He can’t help it,” said Aaron. Alexander rolled his eyes. 

“I do hear it tends to fade pretty fast once returned to my presence.” 

“Asshole,” said John. 

“You love it.” 

“Yep.” John took a long pull of his beer. “Happy birthday, asshole.” 

“You should write Hallmark cards,” said Alexander. 

“I’d buy them,” said Aaron. “Specifically, that one.” 

“I’d buy that one and give it to Thomas,” said Angelica. 

“Same,” said Alexander and John at the same time, and then both broke down laughing. Aaron rolled his eyes. 

“I think _Alex_ should write Hallmark cards,” said John once they recovered. 

“Dear god no,” said Aaron. “It’s a birthday card, not a paper on human rights.” 

“First of all, fuck you,” said Alexander. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but fuck you.” 

“What’s second of all?” Aaron asked dryly. 

“…Nothing. Fuck you.” 

“Right.” 

“How were your breaks?” John asked, squeezing Alexander’s shoulders as he addressed the question to their friends. “Wait, no, I _know_ how Angelica’s was, I’m so sorry, how could I forget—congratulations!” 

“Oh, thank you!” Angelica grinned. “We’re very excited.” 

“Let’s see the rock.” John leaned forward as Angelica held out her left hand, wiggling her fingers. “Nice. How big is that?” 

“Two carats.” 

“I guess size _doesn’t_ matter,” John joked. 

“Big diamonds are for men with something to compensate for,” said Angelica dryly. John and Aaron both laughed. Alexander managed to smile, if thinly. He still didn’t understand why Angelica was willing to buy into the diamond ring _thing._ When he had brought it up, she had told him, _it’s just part of playing the game, Alex. You know I love you, but don’t try to tell me how to do feminism._

Which was fair, he supposed, but there was still a heterosexual aspect to the patriarchal bullshit that he thought it was only natural should make him uncomfortable. And now John was joking about it. 

“Two carats is _small?”_ Alexander put in, because _that_ objection he felt he could easily put into words right here, right now. “Damn. Rich people.” His friends and boyfriend all froze. 

“Shit, that was one-percenty as hell, wasn’t it,” John said ruefully. Alexander nodded. “I didn’t—sorry. Just sorry.” 

“Oh, please,” said Angelica, “at most we’re five-percenters. At most.” 

“Because that’s so much better,” said Alexander dryly. Aaron (Aaron Burr, trust fund baby, orphaned son of the former president of Princeton, grandson of one of the most financially successful televangelists in American history, possibly the most individually wealthy person at the table), characteristically, said nothing, only snorted. John shifted uncomfortably. 

“So, do you have a date yet?” he asked, and kissed the side of Alexander’s head and whispered, “I really am sorry.” 

“I know.” Alexander leaned into him. “It’s okay.” 

“We’re thinking sometime in August,” said Angelica. “It doesn’t give us a _lot_ of time to plan, but we wanted summer, and eighteen months just feels like too long.” 

“Sure.” John nodded. “And we’re all invited, right?” Angelica grinned. 

“Maybe more than invited,” she said. “I’m working on JB to make all three of you groomsmen, and if not, I think I’m going to mutiny and declare mixed-gender wedding parties.” Alexander hadn’t heard that yet, but he was definitely all for it. 

“Hell yeah,” said John. “Wait, what awful color are we going to have to wear?” 

“We’re not _that_ far into the planning yet, Laurens,” Angelica laughed. “Slow down.” 

“What about you, Aaron?” John asked. “What’ve you been up to?” Aaron shrugged. 

“Working. Lining up summer work. Applying to law schools.” 

“Sure,” said John. “Where do you hope to end up?” 

“Princeton, actually.” Aaron smiled. “Full circle.” 

“Nice,” said John. Alexander smiled, too, but in truth it was a little strange to think about Aaron going off to Princeton. Not being in New York anymore. Sure, they weren’t the best of friends—mostly they didn’t even get along particularly well—but he had been a fairly constant presence in Alexander’s life since freshman year, and it would be strange not to see him as often, if at all. In fact, it properly occurred to him for the first time, that would probably be true of most people after graduation. The only person he knew for certain would stay in his life was John—and even then, so much depended on John’s father rather than on either of them. 

_Stop it,_ Alexander told himself. There was still an entire semester standing between them and graduation. No need to start getting maudlin yet, not even inside his head. Luckily (maybe), at that moment, he looked up to see Hercules and Beth walking toward him out of nowhere. Herc was carrying a small cake with what looked like, indeed, twenty-two lit birthday candles, way more than should reasonably fit on it, because of course he was. Then, suddenly, they and everyone else at the table (even Aaron) were singing Happy Birthday. For a moment Alexander was too surprised to move. 

“That _has_ to be some kind of fire hazard,” he protested once he came back to himself, but for once even his voice was drowned out as the rest of the bar joined in. When the song finished, everyone cheered. Alexander wasn’t sure who to glare at; he settled on Herc, who just laughed and reached across John to ruffle Alexander’s hair. That wasn’t the best thing to happen to a ponytail. Alexander patted it down as best he could. 

“Happy birthday, dude! Would you blow out the candles before someone catches fire?” Alexander complied, but he didn’t stop glaring. “Wow, one breath. Got some lungs on you.” 

_“Yeah_ he does,” said John knowingly. Alexander kicked him under the table, and received a kiss on the cheek for his trouble. 

“Sure he does,” said Aaron, “how do you think he talks so much?” Alexander gave him the finger. Aaron just smiled. “I still can’t believe they let you bring that thing in here,” he added to Herc, who shrugged. 

“I know a guy.” 

“Of course you do,” said Aaron resignedly as Alexander became the unwitting recipient of another hair-ruffle, this one from Beth. 

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” 

“I’m so not a _kiddo,”_ Alexander groused, giving up on fixing his hair and pulling it out of the ponytail entirely this time. “You’re only three years older than me.” 

“Okay, kiddo.” She grinned at him. “Were you surprised?” 

“Very. Well played.” 

“How well?” said John, reaching out to grab a candle from the cake as Beth started to remove them. When Alexander looked at him, he grinned, then sucked the frosting off, cheeks hollowing in a way that made the whole thing border on obscene. Alexander laughed, shaking his head and trying not to let the image get to him. There would be plenty of time later. 

“Very. But I _knew_ you were planning something,” he added to Angelica, who instantly rearranged herself into the picture of innocence. “I fucking knew it.” 

“Are you disappointed?” 

“I’m impressed, to be honest. John arriving first caught me off guard,” he said ruefully; “I thought that was all of it.” 

“Herc’s idea.” 

“Well, it was a good one.” Alexander reached out to swipe a bit of frosting with a finger, fully intending on doing the same thing to John, but before he could reach the cake Beth swatted his hand away. 

“Patience!” 

“Hey, I _am_ the birthday boy,” said Alexander. 

“Which is why you get the first piece.” Herc sliced it neatly and set it on a plate—where had _that_ come from?—which he set before Alexander. “Eat up. Hey, Burr,” he added, jabbing at Aaron’s arm, “shove over.” Aaron did, though he didn’t look particularly happy about it. Six of them in a booth was a tight fit, but Alexander, for one, didn’t mind; it just meant he had to be a little closer to John. 

“So,” said Herc once, between the six of them, they had managed to polish off a solid two-thirds of Alexander’s birthday cake. “How’s your birthday going?” 

“Well, I don’t know about you,” said Alexander, “but I’m feeling twenty-two.” Even Aaron laughed at that. “It’s a lot better since you brought me my boyfriend,” he added, leaning on John again. John wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him close against his side. 

“No problem,” said Herc. 

Between the alcohol and the cake, Alexander realized, he was starting to get a little sleepy. _That_ wasn’t what he wanted. As if sensing it, John slid his hand lower and under the hem of Alexander’s shirt, trailing fingers over his skin. 

That woke him up. 

“My boyfriend who I think I’d kind of like to get home,” he continued, turning his head to look up at John, whose answering smile took on a hint of a smirk the longer Alexander held his gaze. “To, uh.” He stretched up so he could whisper right into John’s ear, “do you know how long it’s been since I last got fucked?” He felt John’s sharp exhale, and the fingers grazing his waist contracted slightly. Angelica snickered. 

“Yeah, let’s let these crazy kids go home,” she said. “Go. Get out.” 

“Here, take the rest of the cake,” said Herc, pushing the box he had put it in across the table toward them. “Happy birthday, Alex.” 

“Thanks,” said Alexander as John took the box, stood, and pulled him up with him. “Seriously, thanks,” he added, mainly to Angelica but a little bit to Aaron too. “Best birthday ever.” 

“That was the goal,” said Angelica. Alexander would have said something else, probably, but John was pulling him towards the door, so all he could do was wave. 

“See you guys later!” They all gave him looks that were some degree of knowing as he went. Then they were outside, and John was pressing him up against the wall of the bar to kiss him. “Well, hello there.” 

“Two weeks,” John said through gritted teeth. “Believe me, I’m well aware.” He took Alexander’s face in his hands and kissed him again, one knee sliding between his legs. This was an unusually passionate display of affection for him given such a public setting, but it wasn’t like Alexander was going to fight it. Still, 

“Babe,” he said after a minute or so, tongue somehow functioning in spite of his spinning head, “…we should probably hail a taxi.” 

“Mm. Yeah.” John stepped back, looking slightly dazed. It was nice to know he could still affect him like that after more than three years together, Alexander thought. “Okay.” Alexander was already at the curb holding out an arm. After another minute one stopped, and they climbed in. He gave the driver the address, trying his best to ignore John’s hand settling on his thigh. As they drove, it moved higher and higher. 

They stumbled into the apartment without bothering to turn the lights on. Alexander barely managed to kick off his shoes, set the cake on the kitchen counter, and take stock, somewhere in the back of his mind, of the fact that John’s suitcase was sitting next to the couch before he was pulled into the bedroom, relieved of his sweater and t-shirt, both in one go, and pushed onto the bed. He crawled backwards up toward the pillows, letting his legs fall open to accommodate John as he stripped his own shirt off and joined him, pressing hard enough against him to elicit a whine. 

“John—” 

“All good?” John whispered between hard kisses to his throat. Those were going to leave marks. Alexander didn’t care. 

“Extremely.” 

“Good.” His mouth might be a little rough, but his hands were light on Alexander’s skin as they drifted lower and lower. “Has it been a good birthday, Alexander?” Alexander shivered. He liked hearing John say his full name. 

“The best.” 

“Good.” When he returned to Alexander’s mouth, the kisses suddenly turned gentle again, almost unbearably so. “Let’s make it even better.” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> ... yeah so apparently I started writing this long enough ago that we were still making "I just wanna look good for you" jokes, so, that tells you a. that I plan ahead, I guess, but also b. just how roughly school has been treating me this semester.
> 
> (Disclaimer: if you're annoyed there was no actual smut: tough.)
> 
> I'm still on tumblr @tobyzieglerintraining (although I'm planning on a url change within the month when X-Men Apocalypse comes out. I'll still be writing Hamilton stuff though) and kudos and comments keep my skin healthy and help my crops grow


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